Under the Sun

Until this morning, I believed that we were indeed like a tapestry of millions of colours woven together into a glorious master piece. That was until I, bruised and defeated, gave up and surrendered to the possibility that the uniqueness and diversity of our island is a myth that we, the islanders, dreamt up. In countless arguments, I insisted that we are distinct. 

Now I know that we are, in fact, cut from the same cloth. We are different shades of grey that are quick to point out how close to or far from black or white we are. We each claim our story is different. We think that our own style of twisting tongues is especially different from the others. But has any of our nations been spared from the brutality of cruel ignorant tyrants in this age of democracy? Or are there a people that have not been bullied by their own greedy brothers? Why does it seem like we are working so hard to lag behind the other islands?

We all love the dance of bureaucracy and red tape. Who of us has never seen wicked hearts reflected in the oily smiles of Sir/Madam Authority who takes pleasure in making it difficult for the Wanainchi to claim what they are entitled to? I am almost convinced that at the end of the day, Sir/Madam Authority gather their paperwork into neat bundles and compete to find out who has the tallest stack. [Even in a competition, HE wins because that is how we all think. We are all derived from our fathers, are we not?] I suspect that the winner gets to take all the piles home and after shredding them, uses them to fill his swimming pool, instead of water. How else would one explain an “online” process which involves the act of downloading and filling out a document (offline) and still requires one to print and deliver 3 hard copies of the same document to the relevant “Authority’s” office?

Have you not seen or heard of the miserable wrinkled face of a helpless new-born baby crying as it lies next to the lifeless body of its abandoned mother. Perhaps if the delivery had not been on the cold concrete floor outside the door to the local state-owned health facility, the child would have had the glow that we all imagine babies to have. Unfortunately, the rusty door to the facility was sealed shut from the inside. As the bored nurses arrange for the corpses to be taken to the mortuary, they remark, “All they had to do was to lubricate the hinges with kitu kidogo. After all nothing in this world is free!”

There is lazy haze that hovers over the entire island after the midday meal. Who came up with the ridiculous idea of having such a heavy meal in the middle of the day? Was it because, our ancestors [yes, all of them] used to get up at the crack of dawn and would be starving by midday? Even those who were forced from the island centuries ago carry the same traits. Haven’t you heard or seen Southern Fried Comfort food? Who do you think lives in the shacks within the dazzling cities on the other side of waters? Do they not still believe in community with regards to sharing joy, laughter, pain or mourning? Which descendant of this island does not have intimate knowledge of the backside of his/her mother’s shoe?

Even our attempts to be unique are the same. In our endeavours to stand out of the crowd, we claim that this is the cradle of humankind [Ethiopia], where it all begins [Egypt]. We say that Magical Kenya is a like a world of wonders [Zimbabwe], another world [The Seychelles Island]. There’s more to celebrate [Tunisia] than just a royal experience [The Kingdom of Swaziland]. In the country that travels within you [Morocco], we promise the freedom to explore [Sierra Leone] as far as the land of Kilimanjaro, Zanzibar and the Serengeti [Tanzania]. The warm heart of Africa [Malawi] assures all that it’s a pleasure [Mauritius] and that she will keep inspiring new ways [South Africa]. The smiling coast of Africa [The Gambia] beckons, “Come let’s explore [Zambia] the jewel that is the Pearl of Africa [Uganda].” I wonder why we have not thought of channelling the energy and resources spent on branding individual states into developing a single brand for the island. All these little bits and pieces are such a waste!

This morning, however, I was reminded that we are also one in hope. I watched as a twenty minute shower of rain washed away months of my back-breaking toil. Then, when the clouds cleared, my neighbour, who twists his tongue to the West, walked past my shed. He smiled at me and said,

 “We may not know why it rains but God knows. I, myself, have lost my entire cotton crop this morning. But I know that this day of pain will end and, tomorrow, I shall plant anew.”

To which I replied, with my tongue twisted to the East,

 “Surely, you speak a true thing my friend. We cannot refuse the rain if he sends it. Drink it in today and hope for the best tomorrow.”

“What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again;

There is nothing new under the sun.

Is there anything of which one can say, “Look! This is something new”?

It was here already, long ago; it was here before our time.” Ecclesiastes 1:9-10

Eyes Wide Shut!

As soon as we walked into the gun shop, I could feel the fear. Every pop and smash sent shivers down my spine. At first, I could not put a finger on its source. Then, I remembered that day I was stopped by a traffic police man on Mawanda Road and the time I was held by the cops at the old taxi park at midnight. While the police at the old taxi park used their guns to control us, guns and bullets appear to give people here more control over their life. They choose whether or not to have a gun, what type, when to use it and how.

I held the pistol tight and squeezed the trigger hard. I tried to focus on the target but as the shot went off, I instinctively shut my eyes. For a minute, I had the ability to do some serious damage. I'm sure now, that a career in law enforcement or the army would never have been an option for me. 

Skydiving, on the other hand, is a whole other story. It's the type of craziness I could get used to. 

Time changes

I hate time zone differences. I'm still recovering from all of that. It takes at least 3 hours for my head to acknowledge every day. I was up at night talking to people on the other side of the globe. I hate that I go to bed dreaming of these conversations and wake up expecting a continuation only to find that everyone else has moved on. While I slept, life was happening! The strange thing is that according to that line that goes through London and Accra, I am a couple of hours behind. Yet, when I look around it feels like I was transferred into the future. I begin to share a story or to tell a tale, only to realize that my audience cannot relate to what I do and where I am (or what I did and where I was).

Once, in a conversation on a bus, after saying I was from Africa, the person I was speaking to points to another man and says, "He's from Nigeria. Do you know him?" The other day I was asked if there are night clubs and hang outs on Africa, if I live with animals in my back yard and if the beer in Africa tastes the same as that in the US. One other guy, in an effort to relate to me, told me a story about drug trafficking in Jamaica (after all we are all black and I should be able to relate, right?)

Then there's the archaic banking system at home that denies me access to my own cash because I do not have a credit card. I'm sitting here wondering what the word debit means. Surely, if I want to spend money I have, instead of borrowing it and then having to pay it back later, I should be allowed to make that choice, right?

I miss the fuel pump attendant at Engen, Luzira. We called him our Acholi brother. He'd rush towards the car every time he saw my mother, sister or I. He always had a quick joke and smile to share. Once, he even got me a promotional pen! :) Here, it's every man/woman for himself. You can even do your own payments for groceries at Walmart. There's no need to talk wait in line or to talk to the cashier. Everything's done by cards.

There's hand sanitizer every where, in every office, in every public bathroom. I was amused that when we were taught Basic First Aid, the first lesson was that, in an effort to save someone else, we should never endanger ourselves. If you can't save them, without risking your own life, then let them be. None of that Ubuntu stuff applies.

It's unlikely that you'll meet your neighbor while you're walking through the 'hood. Everyone drives, windows up and AC on. It's  always too hot (the car needs cooling) or it's too cold (the car needs warming). The roads are so much wider than our little Kampala or Jinja Road. It takes 20 seconds to cross the "little" road outside the hotel I stayed in last week. I timed it. There are highways in town. People are in a hurry to get to wherever. The traffic jams are the same though :)

Yesterday, something in the microwave smelt like fried irish potatoes. My mouth was watering. I miss gonja. Most of my meals here are instant. It was interesting at first. Lasagne in 4 minutes. But then I remembered that I like cooking. I can't find ingredients. I saw cassava once in Walmart.

Here, it takes 21-28 days to get from drilling the surface of an oil well to the point where production can begin. I worked in the Ministry's lab in Entebbe in 2006 when we "discovered" oil and almost 7 years later, where's the oil?

Two more months and the clock winds down again.

home

when the mangoes ripen,

 

 

when the blackberries are ready to be juiced


 

when the air is thick with the smell of tender pawpaws

 

 

when the children ran home bathed in sticky passion fruit

when the strawberries are as thick on the ground as blood

 

 

 

when the orchards are overflowing with succulent oranges

when the banana trees hang low, laden with their sweet burden

 

 

 

Wake me up when I am home.


 

[un]certain

started 25 October 2009

...we play pagan games, give them christian names
and think we are wiser than we were...

...we toy around with the devil's schemes
even when we know nothing is as it seems...

from P :-)

...he let us ride down the slide,

heartbreak always the ending scene

even in the games

we are never a full team...

added 28 Oct 2009

...we think we know where we are going
we are so sure of our journey...

as we try to use reason to decipher the code
he laughs at our attempts, at our folly...

from Joel

...we know then as we so oft forget

that profound truth that rings ever true ..

we at our best are but finite minds in an endless course

No hope at all...

until we at last look to You

from Martin

...we are so sure of our journey

we hesitate to commit our plans to HIM... proverbs 16...

i failed to find an appropriate beginning or end to this, so here's the middle that am unsure about... got a little help from a few friends

The End

Today is the last time we'll walk together, my brother. I wish you were beside me as you have always been. But, today, you cannot carry yourself. So they must carry you to the place where I must bid you farewell.

For your sake, I am fighting the tears that well up within me. I know you would have held my hand as we walked. I know you would not want me to cry. So, for your sake, I will be brave. I will make everyone know how proud I was that you were my brother and my friend. I will remember your strength and your courage and hope that, some day, I maybe as strong and as brave as you are.

They told me you that, throughout the struggle, you never gave up. You never thought twice about what it would cost you. They told me that you always carried two things with you, your smile and a picture of us as little ones. They told me that even at the end you had your two prize possessions with you: a smiling face and me, close to your heart.

The path is difficult and our destination is far. I wish you didn't have to leave me like this. The sun beats down on me as we walk down the path. It reminds me of the sunshine of our childhood. I remember the laughter ringing as we chased each other over the grassy hills of our little village. I remember rolling around in the mud and how the rain always made things clean.

Now the sun is not a comfort but a pain. I am dry within and empty because of my grief. The sun's heat only adds to my scorching torture. The rain offers no comfort; it merely makes things wet, soggy and mouldy. I have no joy, my brother. For how can I rejoice as they carry you away? Of what use are flowers if you cannot see them or birds singing if you cannot hear them?

We've arrived at the place. I have lost my courage. The wall that held my tears back has collapsed. I beat on your chest, hoping that this may change things. You may not be able to fight anymore, but I will not let go, not yet!

' It's too soon. Brother, why must you go? Why must it be so?! Why?!'

They hold me back, saying there's nothing I can do. This is the way of the world and I cannot change it. They say that things will get better for you. They say that this is the only way for your pain to end. They say that when the time is right, we will meet again. I cannot hear what they say. I cannot feel the ground beneath me.

They took your life and, in a way, took mine.

Good bye, my brother. Good bye, my friend.

[humble] submission

The truth is I am unaware of what truth really is.
Hence, I am incapable of thinking with ease.
I am a child and childish in my ways;
Side-to-side, like a pendulum, my head sways.
Thus, it seems sensible to deny me the right to choose;
for whatever choice I make, I always end up at the noose.
Every word I speak, my ignorance betrays;
as I look to you with my ever-naive expectant gaze.
I can't be trusted with my own future.
What, after all do I know about how to nurture?
It is unlikely that I have dreams of my own
or that I will, by myself, become anything better than a clown.
My hopes and aspirations are, at best, a little better than jokes
in addition, I am constantly battling with doubts.
Youthful passion and drive leave a bad aftertaste in your mouth
I will try my best to drive those demons out.
Everytime I speak up I am treated to your familiar frown.
So I will settle myself and calm down.
It's pointless for me to fight you.
Like you said, you are the best at what you do.
Someday, I wonder who decides when, I will be able to stand on my own.
I will have understanding and make my first decision.
Until that day, I will lay my restless head on your shoulder.
I will trust you and follow you, o great leader.
I have but one question, then I will be silent forever
Who decided when it was time for you to take over?

shhhh

I heard...

making love is more intimate and beautiful in silence,

when the two of us are rocking back and forth to our heartbeats

when we move to the rhythm of our breaths.

[Re] Start

So....

Almost 4 years later...

[Who am I speaking to? Ever wondered if it's egotistical to assume that someone will read your blog?]

My joy [the one I spoke of earlier] is no longer in my life...
I am older, not so much wiser and wondering about how this next phase will go...

I am leaving again.

I am being educated on the Lord of the Rings Trilogy. Got as far as part 2 [the Two Towers]. This is what I have noticed. The closer Frodo is to his destiny, the more difficult it is to pursue it. Well, I can definitely relate to that.

Maybe there'll be a happier song on the other side of this journey.

I'm back :)